


Salt Water

by blissfire



Series: Shifting Ground [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Animal Transformation, Big Bang Challenge, Demigods, Journey Big Bang Challenge, M/M, Magic, Magical Artifacts, Nymphs & Dryads, Quests, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-13
Updated: 2011-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-27 07:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blissfire/pseuds/blissfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Rodney's teachers force them to work together to earn the next step in their teachings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salt Water

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the lovely and gracious Alrynnas for the beta, Danceswithgary for braving the wilds of the WoWWiki to create such amazing [illustrations](http://danceswithgary.livejournal.com/490352.html), and Nickygabriel for organizing such a fun challenge. ♥

  


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* * *

The cure for anything is salt water - sweat, tears, or the sea. ~Karen von Blixen-Finecke

xxx

 

Rodney trotted across the suspension bridge to the Elder Rise, footsteps lightened by his mood. Finally, today, after months of hard training, he was going to be allowed to learn his next form. The letter he'd received from Runetotem had been typically vague, written in the annoyingly detached language that seemed to be the preferred method of communication for all elders, but the summons had been clear enough.

He strode into the druid tent and waited, picking impatiently at his sleeves, as Turak finished a lesson with a female tauren. Once she left (sending a glare Rodney's way which he ignored), the high druid turned to Rodney, who rocked forward on his hooves, smiling expectantly.

"Rodney of Red Cloud Mesa." Runetotem nodded at him in greeting.

"Elder Runetotem." He'd bet that his second form would be the aquatic one - he'd seen druids splashing around in the lake at Thunder Bluff who he knew for a fact were not much further along in their training than he was. He hadn't been able to get a very good look, but from what he could see of their antics from the shore, they seemed able to spend a remarkable amount time beneath the surface. Either the aquatic form allowed the druid to breathe water, or the form had a lung capacity that-

"The time has come for you to learn more about one of the various animal aspects that Cenarius has blessed us with the ability to change into,” Runetotem said, interrupting his thoughts. “One that affords you command and mastery of the water."

 _Ha!_ Rodney thought, grinning to himself.

"For this, you must travel to the village of Nighthaven in Moonglade and speak again with Dendrite Starblaze of the Cenarion Circle. He will guide you further. Do you remember the teleportation spell?" Rodney nodded. "Good. Now, if you will forgive me, I have some new students waiting." Runetotem inclined his head toward the hide-covered doorway, where two younger druids hovered. One of them was watching Rodney wide-eyed, clearly envious.

Rodney smirked, and walked over to a quiet corner of the hut. He tuned out the sound of Runetotem beginning his introductory spiel about the balance of nature, and recalled the teleportation spell he'd learned the last time. He hadn't had a chance to use it then, but it worked like a charm. Familiar wispy coils climbed his body to surround him.

He blinked when the wisps gathered around his face, and when he opened his eyes he was standing in the same book-filled room he'd appeared in months before. He turned and, sure enough, Dendrite Starblaze was standing in the same place he had been last time Rodney had come.

"Welcome again to Moonglade, young one," Starblaze said in his peculiar sleepy tone.

"Thank you, Druid Starblaze," he replied, and gave a jerky bow. "Ah, Elder Runetotem said you had something to teach me? The aquatic form?" He wasn't afraid of the elven druid anymore, exactly, but he wasn't quite _comfortable_ in his presence, either, and his sentences curled up at the ends involuntarily.

"Yes," Starblaze replied. "First, however, you must learn the ways of the water as others know it. Without understanding the perils of the sea that your brothers and sisters must face, you will not appreciate the true value of Cenarius' gift. In the depths of Lake Elune'ara there lies a hidden Shrine Bauble. Recover this trinket and take it to Tajarri at the Shrine of Remulos in the west. Do not waste time, however - once removed from the lake, the Bauble will begin to decay. If you fail to bring it to Tajarri before it is destroyed, your quest is forfeit." This last was said sternly, the sleepy voice of a moment ago gone, and Rodney's ears went back nervously.

"You need not undertake your journey alone, however," the high druid said. "Harmony with the natural world and with those who inhabit it go hand in hand. The greatest of goals can only be achieved by working together with others." A drowsy blink punctuated Starblaze's speech.

"Someone's coming with me?" Rodney asked suspiciously. If there was going to be some kind of referee following him around, making sure he didn't _cheat_ or something, he'd... well, he'd have to put up with it, he supposed. Though he'd certainly make his opinion known to Runetotem when he got back to Thunder Bluff.

The druid looked at him with interest, perhaps sensing his displeasure, and Rodney tried to school his expression to show only polite attention. Starblaze twitched an eyebrow. "You may help each other, or not, as you decide. Go now to the lake, and return to me before sundown tomorrow, and you will have earned your blessing." He clasped his hands in front of him and bowed.

Rodney returned the bow as well as he was able, and made his way down the staircase and out into the well-kept gardens of Nighthaven. He could see the lake from where he was standing, so instead of tramping all around the village to get to the trail, he simply picked his way down the hill, using his staff as a walking stick. The brush came no higher than his knees, and the slope wasn't very steep, so it was fairly easy going. His main concern turned out to be not stepping on the squirrels that appeared, chittering at him inquisitively and circling him as he walked through their forest.

Grumbling about preservation instincts in spoiled rodents, Rodney finally came to the edge of the treeline. Lake Elune'ara glittered in the sun, the far shore barely visible. Birds wheeled overhead, watching for the mackerel that populated the lake to surface for insects. A sudden _plop_ made him jerk his head over to the right, where, down by the water's edge, a night elf sat, lazily chucking stones.

Even at this distance, and with only a view of his back, Rodney recognized the elf he'd met the last time he'd been here. He'd felt kind of embarrassed after the fact, but the fear he'd felt when John had first approached him, and later, when they'd had their _misunderstanding_ , had imprinted the man on his memory quite effectively. Rodney snorted.

The long ears lifted suddenly, and John turned to look at the forest. Instinctively, Rodney ducked behind a tree. He rolled his eyes at himself, but didn't move until he thought the elf had looked away again. How the hell had he heard that? It was unnatural!

With a sigh that he was careful to keep silent, Rodney slumped against the wide trunk. Apparently John was his helper/referee/harmonious assistant. It couldn't be a coincidence that the only elf he'd ever spoken to other than Dendrite Starblaze himself was the one person he was supposed to meet. It was probably some conspiracy between Starblaze and Runetotem. No doubt an attempt to foster peace between their two races.

Well, if that was what it took, Rodney could be friendly with a night elf for a day. If he was honest with himself, it wouldn't even be much of a hardship. Aside from the occasional moments of mortal terror, his time with John _had_ been fun. Which never would have been a word he'd have thought to associate with an elf before he'd met John.

Resolved, Rodney squared his shoulders and stepped out from the cover of the forest, and directly into the line of sight of his quest companion, who apparently hadn't been fooled by Rodney's duck-and-cover.

Rodney froze, and John tensed, rising from his seated position to a half-crouch. His eyes narrowed, and, belatedly, Rodney realized that John had never seen him in anything but his bear form.

His voice caught somewhere in his throat, Rodney waved his hands in front of him wildly, just as John relaxed and sat back on the water-washed stones, smiling. Rodney's chest unclenched, and the sudden release of panic left him with his hands held out uselessly in the empty air.

"Hi, Rodney," John said warmly, as if they were old friends. "We've really got to stop meeting like this."

A wide grin, and, like last time, Rodney felt his fear turn to annoyance. He lowered his arms and glared at the unrepentant elf. "It would be very nice if you could stop threatening to kill me with your eyes every time you see me, yes. Absolutely. Were you raised by _gnolls?_ "

John ignored him and waved a hand to encompass the lake. "You here for the Shrine Bubble, too?"

"Bauble, and yes. You're supposed to help me."

John turned back to look at him askance. "How do you know I'm supposed to help you? Maybe you're here to help me."

Rodney scowled. "Well, he said we could help each other, so either way you want to look at it, I suppose."

John smiled brightly. "Great!" he said, and began stripping.

Rodney choked. "What-" But before he could think of a coherent response to John's enthusiastic nudity, he was gone.

He blinked at the rippling water where John had gone under. Well, if it meant he wouldn't have to get his own clothes wet, Rodney wasn't about to complain. Personally, he wouldn't have chosen to dive into a lake without his armor not knowing whether or not the water might be home to aggressive frenzies or threshers, but he supposed John could take care of himself. It was unlikely to be dangerous anyway, he thought. The forests in the sacred haven were kept free of predators - why would the lake be any different?

Still, he watched the surface nervously, counting off the seconds in his head until John reappeared near the middle of the lake.

"Found it!" he called.

"O-" Rodney began, as John dove under again. "-kay."

The wait was shorter this time, and in less than a minute, John broke the surface once more, swimming in a strong forward stroke for the shore.

He trotted over and Rodney averted his eyes, accepting the small silvery sphere, cradling it as John dressed. Everywhere it came in contact with his dry fingers, layers peeled off to stick to him. He tried keeping it as still as possible, but even then, tiny shards flaked off randomly, as if whittled away by the wind.

"Uh, John, I think you're going to have to hang on to this," he said, grimacing. "And maybe dip your cloak in the lake."

John peered into Rodney's cupped hands as he fastened his belt and whistled. "Huh, Starblaze wasn't kidding about the time limit, was he? Okay." He plucked his thin summer cloak from the ground and walked over to the shallows, dragging it across the rocks until it was soaked through.

"All right, put it in here." Rodney gingerly tipped the bauble onto the wet material, and John wrapped it up carefully. "Now, to the shrine. Come on," John said, and walked away east.

After a brief argument over _east_ versus _west,_ which John lost with little grace, Rodney led the way into the forest. It was pretty slow going, since John had to be careful with his cargo, and neither of them had been to the shrine before. They really should have found out where the shrine was before they retrieved the bauble, Rodney thought, angry at his own lack of foresight.

John was apparently thinking along the same lines. "You should go on ahead. Find the shrine and double back. I'll follow you," he said, stepping over a fallen branch.

"That's... actually not a bad idea," Rodney allowed. He could do the pointless running around much faster without their rapidly decaying burden. He shifted to bear form for the speed advantage, and took two long strides before stopping. _Wait - how will you know which way to go?_ he asked. Nothing about their little trek thus far had instilled in Rodney any confidence in John's internal compass.

John's eyes crinkled in amusement. "I think I'll be able to track you," he said, indicating the trampled mess Rodney had made in the short distance he'd traveled.

 _Oh,_ Rodney said, unaccountably embarrassed. _Right. Well, see you._

John waved him away, and Rodney set off, going in a straight line west for a while to leave a path for John to follow, then made a sharp turn and began searching the area in a rough grid pattern. He much preferred his method to John's _"Let's go this way for a bit"_ approach, and he found the activity rather satisfying. Not having to worry about the typical dangers, he could concentrate on counting his strides and keeping his lines straight, ensuring he was covering the most amount of distance with the least amount of aimless searching. In a time-sensitive situation, efficiency was key.

The second time he crossed his center line again, John was almost at the point where he'd made his first turn, so he forged ahead west for a bit before resuming his search. The third time he crossed his center line he was running out of breath, and by the fourth, John was laughing at him as he passed, panting as he ran. He growled, which didn't faze John in the slightest, and made a mental note to step on the man at the earliest opportunity.

As he was pondering whether he would use his claws or not, he saw a structure ahead between the trees. As he came closer, he could see that it was made entirely of cream-coloured marble, weathered with age. Six huge pillars twined with ivy, each nearly as tall as the trees surrounding them, supported a peaked roof that was decorated with intricate carvings of animals that were clearly shifted druids of both races. The roof was so enormous the carvings were life-sized.

Standing within the structure was the largest creature Rodney had ever seen.

Remulos was said to be immortal, the son of Cenarius himself, and direct descendent of the night elves’ goddess, Elune. Rodney had scoffed at the idea of anyone claiming to be related to a god, but looking at him now, he considered the possibility. In form, he resembled the brutal centaurs, the tauren's oldest enemies, in that he had a humanoid torso, and the body and legs of a beast, but one might as well have said that orcs resembled gnomes because they both stood on two legs.

His lower half looked like a stag's, if deer came in the three-storey tall variety, with thin, graceful legs and a short tail, white markings covering light brown fur. Above the waist, he looked very much like a night elf, muscular, with long hair and ears. Atop his head, high enough that Rodney had to crane his neck, he could see a rack of antlers covered in moss and ropes of ivy. Scampering around his feet he saw a number of Daughters of Cenarius, the race of deer-women he was familiar with from his rare forays into Ashenvale.

Quietly, Rodney retreated back the way he'd come. He was sure he had nothing to fear from Remulos or his attendants, but he'd be glad for John's company anyway. He ran back to the place where his center line ended to find John standing there, waiting.

 _I found the shrine. How's the bauble?_ he asked worriedly, trying to see into John's cupped hands.

John peeled his cloak away from the sphere and looked at it critically. "It'll keep." He picked up a shard that had splintered off and held it before him. "Not for too much longer, though." Carefully, he wrapped it back up in the damp fabric and tucked the bundle into his tunic.

 _All right, this way,_ Rodney said, and followed his own track back into the trees, careful to tramp down as much of the undergrowth as he could to make an easy trail for John.

xxx

When Starblaze told him he'd be going to the Shrine of Remulos, John hadn't thought for a moment that Remulos would actually be there. That was something Rodney might have thought to mention.

Although they were standing in the shade cast by the demi-god, Remulos either didn't notice them, or cared so little about them that he didn't even acknowledge their presence. John wasn't sure which explanation he preferred.

Suddenly, Remulos shifted, one giant hoof coming down much closer to them than it had been before, making the ground shake and leaves fall from nearby trees. Rodney startled so hard he almost fell over, despite being currently four-footed. John leaped toward him automatically, then, embarrassed at his reaction, covered it by shooing Rodney away from the danger with a smirk.

"Try not to get stepped on, buddy," he drawled.

 _Yes,_ Rodney said shakily. _Right._

Rodney put a little more distance between himself and Remulos, circling around the shrine while John followed close enough to keep an eye on him. He felt weirdly protective of his tauren companion. It was ridiculous - of all the mortal races, tauren were probably the least in need of protection. Rodney's own size and bulk - in tauren or bear form - certainly bore that out. He'd seen Rodney at his raging, deadly best, he'd seen him angry and sarcastic and derisive, and still, it was impossible not to see the vulnerability under all of that and want to protect him anyway.

_Oh! There!_

John looked up to see one of the dryads waving at them energetically from across the clearing. Rodney sped up, trotting over to meet her. When John approached, the dryad - Tajarri, he guessed - was laughing at something Rodney had said. Rodney dipped his head slightly, abashed, and John frowned.

It was weird to know that Rodney was speaking and to not feel his voice in his mind.

Tajarri turned to him, eyes bright with the joy for life that all dryads exuded. For the first time he found himself thinking that that kind of incessant perkiness was kind of grating.

"John of Shadowglen! Denny told me you would be coming today. Rodney tells me you've found the Bauble?" She clasped her small hands in front of her chest excitedly. Obediently, he pulled his damp cloak out of his tunic and peeled the fabric away from the remnants of the sphere.

 _It's, uh, a little worse for wear,_ Rodney said apologetically, directing it to both of them.

"Oh, no! That's fine! It's just an exercise, really. Denny will have a new one made up for the next druid facing the Trial of the Lake." She smiled brilliantly.

Rodney seemed to be at a loss for words, staring blankly at the cheerful dryad. Before he recovered enough to say something blistering, John stepped in.

"So, you do this all the time, then?"

"Oh, yes! Well, no, not _quite._ It's very unusual to see a collaboration such as yours, as young as you are. It can take years to get some of you working together. But where are my manners?" She laughed again, then continued in a more formal voice, sounding more like a child reciting lines than a centuries-old keeper of the forest. "My name is Tajarri. It is my duty and my privilege to serve as a warden for Moonglade, and specifically this shrine. Keeper Remulos guides the Cenarion Circle in preservation of nature and balance, and his shrine serves as a lasting tribute to such. Bringing the Bauble here serves as a nod to the importance of this place within the Circle." She ended with a bow.

 _Well, if John had died diving naked into a freezing lake for a worthless trinket, it would have been a great comfort to know that it was for the sake of paying respects to the Circle,_ Rodney said, waspishly.

John silently grasped for a way to spin that to make it sound a little less accusatory, then realized that Tajarri's smile hadn't dimmed at all.

"Don't be silly! There's no danger in Moonglade." Rodney looked ready to argue that, but Tajarri continued. "Though your concern for your friend's well-being does you credit." Rodney blinked, and gave John a fearful sideways look.

 _Ah, well, let's not overstate-_ Rodney dropped his gaze to the fallen leaves between his feet and scowled. _I wouldn't say concerned, exactly, so much as- In the interest of expediency, it can be helpful to have another pair of hands-_

John grinned, charmed by the ineloquent denial, and dropped his hand onto Rodney's back, scritching the heavy fur affectionately. Rodney turned his face away from John's view and huffed awkwardly. _Well._

Tajarri gave John a warm, knowing look, and John had the distinct feeling that he wasn't hiding anything from the ancient woodland keeper. Thinking of the uncharitable thoughts he'd had a moment ago, he shifted uncomfortably. Tajarri simply gave him a bright smile and clasped her tiny hands in front of her again.

"So! Now that you've both completed the first stage of your journey, it's time to move on to the next. This part will be much more difficult, but if you work together, I'm sure you can do it!" She sparkled at them both. "For the second trial, you'll need the two halves that make the Pendant of the Sea Lion. One half draws power from the agility of the sea lion aspect as it glides through water; the other draws power from the sea lion's incredible endurance. Druids draw on both these traits equally to embody the aspect of their aquatic form."

 _The scavenger hunt continues. I suppose you planted both of these halves, as well?_ Rodney said, snippily.

Tajarri winked at John. "Of course! The Half Pendant of Aquatic Agility can be found in the Sludge Fen in the far northern regions of the Barrens, near Ashenvale. The Half Pendant of Aquatic Endurance rests deep beneath the sea off the western coast of Silverpine Forest near the wreckage of an ancient ocean-crosser. Bring both halves to me, and I will reunite them for you!"

Rodney sighed. _Lovely. And me without my walking boots._

John kind of agreed. That was a hell of a long way to travel in one night. Not to mention that the Barrens, even though there were occasional Alliance scouting parties present, was a Horde-controlled area, not at all safe for lone Allies to be found in. And Silverpine was even worse, having been completely abandoned by the Alliance when the numbers of undead, or Forsaken, as they called themselves, drove them out. The once-proud human city of Lordaeron was now a stinking cesspool of filth, claimed by the undead as their own capital.

Rodney would be tolerated in their lands as an allied member of the Horde, but for John it was tantamount to suicide.

Tajarri looked at him kindly. "Have faith, young ones. Cenarius watches over us all."

"Right," John sighed.

Belatedly, Rodney exclaimed, _Wait a minute! You want to send John to Silverpine? Why the hell would you hide your stupid necklace there?! And don't give me that 'there is no danger in Moonglade' line, because that certainly doesn't apply to-_

Rodney broke off with a choking gurgle when Tajarri clasped her hands around his broad head and planted a kiss between his ears. "You are a good friend, Rodney. Remember your lessons."

Before Rodney could work himself into a self-conscious fit, Tajarri backed away with a teasing grin and snapped a crisp salute. "Two to depart, Remy!" she called, and bounded away to join the other dryads.

Remy? John spun around in time to see Remulos rear up onto his hind legs, thigh muscles straining to lift his weight. He heard Rodney whimper just before the demi-god's hooves crashed to the ground, causing a shockwave that made the earth groan and made John and Rodney fall to their knees...

...and land in a soft pile of lavender flowers.

John blinked down at his hands buried in the dark earth, and tried to remember how to use them. Every inch of his body felt numb and tingly at once, like the time an enterprising gnome engineer trying to sell his wares had shot him with a beam from his newest invention. He'd spent the next ten minutes trying not to get stepped on by shoppers walking through Stormwind's trade district until the gnome managed to reverse the effects and return him to his normal size. For days afterward, he'd felt just like this, not quite sure his arms and legs would stay where he put them.

"Oh, my God," Rodney moaned from beside him. He'd reverted back to his tauren form and was sprawled out on his stomach in the flowers. "I feel like something a kodo sat on."

"Me too. What's a kodo?" John asked, and scowled as the petal he was trying to grasp slipped between his fingers.

Rodney ignored him and sat up, craning his head around. "Wait, wait, wait. Where are we? What is- this is not Moonglade!"

"Ashenvale," John supplied. He'd know the peculiar humid forest with its green and purple vegetation and mushroomy smell with his eyes closed. "Ha!" he crowed as he plucked the petal up between his thumb and forefinger. The pins and needles were fading quickly.

"Oh, _God,"_ Rodney said again, and fumbled for his staff from his seated position. John caught the end of it as it swung toward his head.

"Relax, Rodney," he said with a smile, shaking his end of the staff to get Rodney's full attention. When the wide blue eyes focused on him, he said reassuringly, "We're nowhere near Astranaar."

Rodney's shoulders lowered slightly, though he didn't relinquish his grip on his weapon. "How can you possibly know that?"

"Because I've been living there for the past few months, and I know this forest." When John felt Rodney's grip on the staff slacken, he added, "And also, the whole town is surrounded by a river. You don't hear any water, do you?"

Rodney looked at him suspiciously, then shook his head. John slid the staff out of Rodney's hands, and placed it on the ground between them. "And at least we've got a head start, now. The Barrens is just south of here." John grinned and jumped to his feet, brushing the remaining petals and forest debris from his clothing.

"How nice of him," Rodney muttered, standing up and sheathing his staff before picking off what bits of vegetation he could see on his own clothing. "He could've just dropped us at the Sludge Fen and been done with it." Apparently deciding that he was as clean as he was going to get, Rodney stilled for a moment, then dropped to all fours.

John struck out in the direction that the trees were thinnest. The closer you got to the Barrens, the shallower and less nutritious the soil became, allowing fewer and fewer large trees to root. By the looks of the forest as they passed through, they were probably less than a half hour's walk from the forest's edge.

After a few minutes' silent travel, John glanced sideways to where Rodney was keeping pace with him, plodding along surprisingly gracefully on padded feet. "You're quite the naturalist, aren't you?" he asked, grinning.

_That's funny, coming from someone whose entire people live primarily in treehouses._

John barked a laugh, but didn't press the subject. He knew there were some druids who never felt quite comfortable in their own skin, and only felt truly themselves in one form or another. Ferals, they were called. He wasn't surprised that his friend's preferred form was the one that offered him the most protection. John himself felt equally comfortable in either form, but he found Rodney's feralism kind of endearing. Also, it afforded many convenient opportunities for scratching and petting.

 _Please don't pull my ears,_ Rodney sighed.

"I'm not." Technically, it was just the one.

_You are so! You're doing it right now!_

"No, I'm not." He smiled at the glare Rodney sent him, then let go of the abused ear to scratch at the fur over Rodney's shoulder, feeling the blade move with every heavy step. As he sifted his fingers through the dusty fur, he could swear that he could _feel_ Rodney's exasperation, tangled up with a kind of pleased bashfulness.

 _So, how are you planning on sneaking through the Mor'shan Rampart?_ Rodney asked, referring to the giant wooden gates and tall rifle towers that guarded the entrance to the Barrens from Ashenvale.

"There's a break in the fence a little off the path we use." John didn't even think of not answering. It was only once he'd already replied that it occurred to him that, technically, he was spilling secrets of war to someone who would be considered the enemy. He shook his head in silent wonder at the strange situation he found himself in.

 _So that's how all those outriders get past the gates. Huh._ Suddenly, Rodney laughed, the sound translating to a warm tickle in the back of John's mind. _Overlord Saurfang took away the entire company's lunch rations for a week the last time. He thought there was a traitor at the gate._

"Speaking of," John said, and stopped Rodney with a tap on his shoulder. The first tower was just visible through the trees. "You go on through - I'll meet you on the other side."

Rodney looked at him questioningly. _Why don't I just come with you?_

"Two people sneaking around where they're not supposed to be are a lot easier to spot than one." John smiled, trying to tell him without words that it wasn't because John didn't trust him to know where the weak point was. He didn't exactly trust Rodney to be _stealthy,_ but that was a different thing all together.

Rodney waggled his head. _Okay, I can see that. And I guess the more people watching me come through the gate, the fewer people there are to see you skulk around it._

John nodded, relieved. "There you go, buddy. Thinking like a sneaky night elf already."

 _Thanks, I'm sure,_ he said with an audible eyeroll, and tottered off toward the orc guards.

John crept through the brush until he found the fortified wooden barricade, then followed along it until he came to the broken beams and splintered planks that marked the only safe access to the Barrens from the elven territory. He climbed over the wreckage as quickly as he dared, then sprinted for the low bushes on the other side of the divide.

Moving from cover to cover, he made his way south until all he could see of the Mor'shan Encampment was a few trails of smoke from their cooking fires, then crouched beside a yellow stone boulder to wait for Rodney.

Before he'd even really settled in, he saw Rodney walking along the worn road with his heavy gait, head swinging side to side as he scanned the area for John. He lifted a hand, and Rodney made his way over to him, looking at him with a strange, distant expression on his face.

 _So, it really works, then,_ he said in a tone that matched the look. _I couldn't even tell where you'd gone, and I knew for a fact you were there somewhere. Huh._

John frowned at his friend's unusual demeanor. "Rodney, did something happen?"

 _No, no... well, yes, a long time ago, I guess. I just realized that whoever it was that killed my father probably did the same thing you just did. It was a weird thought._ Rodney tilted his head in a shrug, avoiding John's eyes. There was an uneasy air of awareness between them that hadn't been present since their first tense meeting in Moonglade.

John felt a twist in his gut and opened his mouth, then closed it when he realized he had no idea what to say. I'm sorry? It wasn't me? He fisted his hand at his side. Please don't hate me for something I didn't do because I think I'm starting to care about you more than I should?

Rodney swung his head around to look at John earnestly. _I didn't tell them. I didn't tell anyone about the fence._ He shifted his eyes to the ground. _I just wanted you to know that. I wouldn't do that. I won't._

John swallowed thickly and reached out to wrap both of his hands around Rodney's muzzle, one palm cupping his jaw and the other resting gently over his nose. When Rodney met his eyes, startled, John smiled at him softly. "I never doubted it."

xxx

The first sign that they were approaching the aptly-named Sludge Fen was the smell. At first just an unpleasant tickle in the throat, the stench grew as they traveled eastward until Rodney's eyes began watering from the blend of soured milk, rotting vegetation, and machine exhaust.

The dry earth of the Barrens grew gradually darker beneath their feet, stained black with oil. When the huge wood and steel drilling platforms came into sight, they crouched behind a small rise to survey the area, Rodney back in tauren form so as not to be so visible at a distance.

The small inland lake was surrounded with machinery, from the giant drills to floating refuse containers to conveyor belts to the strange walking suits called shredders that the Venture Company used at all of their excavation and deforestation sites. A few high-flying scavenger birds were the only wildlife nearby, apparently unfazed by the unending cacophony below.

The lake was swarming with Venture Company employees. Ironically, in their greedy destruction, they managed what none of the proponents of peace in either the Horde or Alliance had managed: complete unity of purpose and a cooperation that transcended race and faction. Not only were all races of both factions represented, but also gnolls, kobolds, and of course, the goblins who spearheaded all of their operations.

Peace through profit. Mercenary, but undeniably effective.

Rodney slid his gaze over to John. He'd been quiet and distant since they'd come through the Rampart, and Rodney couldn't help worrying that he had done something to offend him. There was hardly anyone in Rodney's life, past or present, that he hadn't offended at some point, and the people he hadn't driven away with some offhand remark or social failing could be counted on one hand.

John looked tense and serious, crouched a conspicuous distance from where Rodney had settled, looking out at the Fen. There was enough room between them for another two people to sit comfortably, and even Rodney could tell the space was intentional. It was a stark contrast to how close John usually was, Rodney realized - close enough to bump his shoulder or scratch his fur or pull on his ear. He dropped his eyes to the sandy ground. Clearly he'd done or said something so thoughtless that it had destroyed whatever familiarity had been growing between them, that John no longer wanted that closeness. The thought was more distressing than Rodney would have anticipated.

"I'm sorry!" he blurted.

John jerked his head around to look at him, eyes wide. "What?"

"I'm sorry!" he repeated, wringing his hands. "Whatever I said, I didn't mean it. I don't-" Damn it, he didn't know how to apologize when he didn't know specifically what he'd done. He made an angry sound, frustrated at his own ignorance.

"Rodney," John said, looking bewildered. "You didn't do anything. I'm not angry. What are you-"

"But you won't look at me. And you're way over there!" Rodney waved emphatically at John's crouched position. "You don't have to be _polite,_ just tell me what it is so I can apologize, and you can talk to me again!"

There was silence for a moment, then John closed his eyes and shook his head. "Rodney, you didn't- I'm not angry at you. I just thought you might want a little distance, that's all." He cocked his head, not meeting Rodney's eyes.

"Distance? Why? Is it because I step on you sometimes? That's not because I'm clumsy, you know! That's a deliberate-"

John snorted. "No. Just, with your dad and all..." He lifted a hand to scratch at his head, hiding his face from Rodney's view. "You know."

It took Rodney several seconds to understand what John meant, which he spent blinking at one elongated ear.

"What!" he barked when it came to him. "Because you're an elf, you mean?" John said nothing, and Rodney's ears went back. "Do I look like the kind of idiot who would blame a guy for something that happened when he was probably still in leafy diapers?!"

John lowered his arm and gave Rodney a sideways glace. "I haven't been in leafy diapers for four hundred years." But there was a relieved twinkle in his eye and Rodney's heart lightened. He smiled and shifted closer to where John was crouched. Just because the view was better from there, of course.

"So, then, what's our plan?" he asked.

"Well, you see that shredder over there?" John rested one hand on Rodney's back, pointing with the other to where one of the unused metal suits was standing, close to a dense copse of bushes.

"Uh-huh."

"I'll jump in it, draw the attention of the camp, and you can run to the Fen and search for the pendant while everyone is distracted." John turned to look at him to gauge his reaction.

For a moment, Rodney waited for the rest of the plan - the part of the plan that would make it not insane. When he realized it wasn’t coming, he squinted at John, scowling. "And if it should happen that, say, _one_ of the several dozen people milling around down there sees me and decides to go after me instead of you?"

"I'll keep an eye on you. If I see anyone heading your way, I'll make them pay attention to me." John grinned. "I'm good at that."

"I'm sure. And if, with said several dozen people on you, they manage to get you out of the shredder?"

"I guess you'll just have to keep an eye on me, too." John winked. "Don't worry, Rodney, _Cenarius watches over us all,_ remember?"

Then John was gone, slinking his way over to the bushes, leaving Rodney with a cool spot on his back and a disturbingly accurate impression of a deer-woman's voice ringing in his ears. Rodney snorted in irritation. At least, he told himself he was irritated. Irritation was certainly a more manageable feeling than fear, and much easier to deal with than whatever feelings were raised by John's hand warming his back or that flirtatious - _irritating_ \- wink John had given him.

Rodney sighed, feeling very put-upon. It seemed to him more than one should ask of one tauren. Sent on a quest by a night elf to team up with another elf to go searching across the land for jewelry hidden by a deer-woman, then shot through space by a demi-god to take on a gang of goblins, ogres and other unsavory characters who would probably kill him on sight. And they still had to find the other half of the pendant. An'she save him.

When he saw that John had reached the shredder, Rodney crouched low in his hiding spot, ready to run. He would prefer to be in bear form, but as a tauren he had at least a small chance that the Venture Company employees might think that he was one of them, at least from a distance. It was a pretty safe bet that they didn't have any bears in their employ.

John climbed up into the head of the machine as if he'd done it a hundred times. As the clear dome lowered over him and the shredder powered up, Rodney dug his fingers into the dirt.

The circular saws on each of the metal arms whirred to life, their threatening whine making Rodney flatten his ears. John clomped toward the Fen, stomping through packing crates and oil barrels, being sure to destroy everything in his way. One swing of a saw arm brought down two support legs of a rest tent, and the canvas roof fell down on the two gnolls beneath.

Their hyena-like cries of anger attracted the attention of everyone in earshot. As they realized that they were under attack, they ran in groups toward the commotion, drawing their swords and cocking their rifles as they ran. Rodney swallowed, and hoped that the shredder's dome was bullet-proof.

The swords and bullets clanged off of the shredder's metal skin as John led them away, continuing on his merry path of destruction. When the area closest to Rodney was clear, he sprang forward, running as fast as he ever had, eyes flicking between John, the gang of Venture employees, and the edge of the water.

John and his entourage disappeared behind the brick administration building just as Rodney reached the shore of the tiny, polluted lake. Panting, he took a deep breath and threw himself into the oil-slicked brown water. He dove to the lake bed and turned, heart beating in his ears, expecting someone - or several someones - to splash in after him.

After a slow count of ten, Rodney dared to hope he hadn't been noticed. Cautiously, he surveyed what he could see of the lake's floor. The wooden beams that supported the drilling platforms were covered in algae and had begun rotting away. There were empty cans half-buried in the sand and canvas sacks slowly decomposing. He swam around the support beams until his lungs began to burn, then swam slowly up to the surface.

Hugging one of the wooden pillars, he peeked his head above the waterline, scanning the area. There was no one nearby, and he could see John at the other end of the lake, having drawn the attention of the whole camp, just as he'd said. Another shredder had been brought in to subdue him, and the two of them were hacking away at each other, sparks flying wherever the circular saws met metal.

Rodney's eyes widened, and he dove back beneath the surface. There was no way he could take on that thing - he had to hope John could hold out long enough for Rodney to find the pendant, then, hopefully, they could make their escape.

Frantically, he darted around the pillars, no longer bothering to be inconspicuous. He tore up the sandy floor whenever something shiny caught his eye. He sliced a finger on a discarded piece of rusted machinery, coughing out most of his air in pained surprise.

Cursing, he was about to surface for another breath when he spotted something sleek and solid, half hidden by vegetation. He dove for it, praying, and whimpered with relief when he recognized elven characters emblazoned in silver atop the small chest's lid. He tore off the latch and lifted the lid to find what looked like a broken half of a golden medallion. He grasped it tightly, and kicked off from the lake bed, swimming desperately for the shore.

The moment he touched dry earth, he stuffed the medallion in his mouth and shifted to bear, the wispy tendrils of white light trailing him as he tore around the edge of the lake, shouting for John.

 _I've got it!_ he yelled, projecting as far and as loud as he could. _Go! I've got it! Get out of there!_

Apparently, he'd projected a little too broadly, as immediately, half of the camp surrounding John turned to him, guns raised. He yelped and turned, running for the bushes and what little cover they could afford. He looked back to see that John was following him in the shredder, which now sported one saw arm and one mangled mess of wiring and jagged metal. John easily outpaced his pursuers on foot, but the other shredder was right behind him.

Less than twenty yards from the bushes, the sound of half a dozen rifles firing at once rent the air, and Rodney hit the ground hard, skidding on his jaw along the barren ground. Dazed, he had a moment of wondering why he'd tripped before the pain hit him.

He couldn't help it; he yowled and dropped the medallion. The pain whited out his vision and his hearing; all he knew was the agony eating through his right side. He thrashed his head and clawed at the dirt, trying to escape it. A metal arm scooped him up and he snarled, snapping and tearing at whatever he could reach. Metal ripped away in his jaws, his teeth crunched though plating and snapped wiring. The taste of oil filled his mouth. Blindly, he shredded everything, lacerating the inside of his mouth on torn metal until he severed a thick braided wire and was knocked unconscious.

xxx

John turned the half-medallion over in his hands, searching for any remaining bits of Rodney's blood in the delicate raised shapes. He thought he saw a small flake stuck in the groove of the sea lion's flipper, but it may have just been a speck of dirt. He rubbed it away carefully anyway, and turned the medallion over to check the back again.

Maybe he should have left the thing covered in it. He should have done that. He should have taken the broken piece of jewelry and thrown it at that dryad or at Starblaze and let them feel Rodney's blood slicking between their fingers.

No, this was the least of what he deserved.

He'd as much as promised Rodney that he'd look out for him. That he wouldn't let any of those Venture Company scavengers get to him. He'd had one job: keep them away from Rodney. Instead, Rodney had taken at least two shots while John was safe in his metal cocoon. It made him sick.

John put his face in his hands, the ridges of the medallion pressing into his forehead as his head swam again. He almost couldn't believe it had happened. He'd joked about Tajarri's indomitable optimism, but he must have truly believed her deep down inside. Like a child playing with his father's rifle, John felt as if something that was supposed to be a joke had suddenly turned into a nightmare.

He'd laughed. When Rodney had broadcasted loud enough that they'd probably heard him in Astranaar, John had laughed inside his protected dome. He thought he'd probably always hate himself for that moment. That was the moment he could have taken them all out with a few swings of the saw. He hadn't thought it necessary to kill them. He'd thought Rodney would be fine. He'd thought the gunners would miss and Rodney would get himself safely to cover and they would make their getaway because that was how it was supposed to happen.

He wasn't supposed to be laughing while his friend fell to the ground in agony.

John wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there on the fallen tree, insides twisting as he replayed those few seconds over and over, but the night birds were beginning their greeting to the moon and the mushrooms on the forest floor were hidden in the long shadows of the trees when he finally heard footsteps coming from the south. He stood quickly, his night elf vision able to see far into the dark woods, searching for the source.

He saw movement and heard the footsteps coming closer. They were definitely humanoid, and their pace was slow, brushing through the fallen leaves as if the traveler didn't have the energy to lift his feet. Then he stepped into a shaft of moonlight, and John saw Rodney.

John had deliberately waited as close as he dared to the gates at the Mor'shan Rampart, choosing a spot directly north of it, so that if Rodney decided to look for John in the Ashenvale forest, he wouldn't have far to search.

Rodney looked worn out, but whole. John closed his eyes and breathed thanks to Elune that whatever healers the orc encampment employed, they'd been able to save him. As if he'd heard the silent prayer, Rodney looked up and paused when his eyes met John's. He came no closer, and they stood for a moment, regarding each other. Rodney looked away for a second, then approached him slowly, eyes on the forest floor.

"Rodney," John began. His friend seemed to shrink away from his voice, and John's chest hurt.

"Thank you for bringing me to the Rampart."

"Least I could do," John said, voice rough. "How did- What do you remember?"

Rodney picked at the sleeves of his tunic. "Not much. I woke up in the bunkhouse. The shaman who healed me said you caused a real stir running straight past the guards through the gate, leaving an unconscious bear behind." Rodney huffed a small laugh.

"I dropped you," John said, one corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "Right in the middle of the road."

"Heh."

There was a heavy silence between them then, and John waited for Rodney to break it. It was his decision; he would make the judgement. He would either forgive John or he wouldn't, and John would accept it. Rodney took a deep breath, and John braced himself.

"I'm sorry," Rodney said on a gust of air. "I'm sorry, I was stupid, I lost it. I had it - I did - then I yelled and they knew I was there and I fell and lost it but maybe it's still there. We still have time, we could go back and I won't get myself shot this time. I can- I promise I can do better. I'm not very _good_ at fighting, but..."

So great was John’s relief and confusion that it took him a moment to understand what Rodney was actually saying. "Rodney," he broke in, and Rodney's eyes slid up to meet his, then slipped back to the ground, and in that moment, John saw that Rodney was, of all things, embarrassed.

Wanting to say half a dozen things at once, John found himself unable to say anything, and covered his eyes with his hand. He surprised himself by laughing, and Rodney looked at him as if he were crazy. Wordlessly, John reached into his shirt and pulled out the medallion.

Rodney's eyes widened. "You got it?!"

John nodded. "It was right beside you, so I scooped it up, too. It didn't seem right to leave it there." John's smile dimmed. "You bled for this."

Rodney regarded the small, broken piece of metal with interest, then looked at John through long eyelashes. "Do you want to keep going? Get the other one?"

John considered the question seriously. Giving up now would mean neither of them would earn their rewards, and their training as druids would be over. He would have no qualms about that if it meant Rodney would be safe, but he still felt that he owed Rodney, and he had no right to ask him to give up his own calling.

Recalling Rodney's feralism, his preference for and contentment in his animal form, John knew there was no way he could take that away from him. "I'm willing, if you are," he said warmly.

Rodney's glowing smile was so bright it could have blinded a lesser man. As it was, it was more than enough to make one night elf fall quietly, helplessly in love.

xxx

They trekked across the Barrens, following the Southfury River to Durotar, the land of the orcs. About an hour into their journey, Rodney found himself tiring rapidly. John slowed to his pace, but when it became clear that Rodney just didn't have the strength to make the whole trip under his own power, John shifted to bear and Rodney slumped over his back.

Rodney felt bad about it, but John wouldn't hear it. _You almost died today, buddy,_ he said softly. _It's okay to rest for a while. I'll get us there._

As Rodney stared at the landscape passing beside them and watched the zhevras and giraffes grazing and the prowlers and hyenas hunting them by moonlight, John ran. Rodney gripped the thick fur of his neck as gently as he could and held on all the way to Orgrimmar.

When the orc capital came into sight, Rodney slipped from John's back. The city was a prime example of orc architecture. Rough wooden buildings were covered in hides painted with the red and black symbol of the Horde. The roofs visible from the outside of the walled fortress intimidated potential attackers by proudly displaying the bones and horns of the deadliest of creatures. The severed heads of dragons and demons adorned giant wooden pikes.

The orcs were the tauren's closest allies. Rodney had been inside the city many times. He'd eaten at their tables, browsed their shops, gotten drunk and silly in their inns. He could walk in right now and enjoy a warm meal in a stranger's home and be welcomed like a brother.

John would be torn apart and his body left in the desert as a warning.

 _Here it comes,_ John said, nodding to the west, where one of the goblin zeppelins had reached the end of its sea-crossing and was coming about to dock with the tower just outside the gates of the city. The zeppelins made the crossing to the Eastern Kingdoms in just a few hours, whereas travelling to the other continent by boat could take several days if you hit bad weather. This was their only choice.

 _You ready?_ John asked. Rodney swallowed and nodded. He shifted to bear and started toward the tower, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, with John following after.

Their whole plan - and very likely John's life - depended on the hope that none of the goblin guards or engineers knew what a night elf druid in bear form actually looked like. If they raised the alarm, grunts from Orgrimmar would be at the tower in minutes.

They ambled their way toward the guards, John using Rodney's bulk as cover. As they approached, Rodney saw the long rifles held easily in their hands and faltered mid-step. John nudged his flank gently and he recovered, walking toward the tower door and hoping that his greatmother's advice about acting like you belonged worked for elves, too.

Rodney entered the tower, passing between the goblins closely enough that both of them could have touched his sides at once as he passed. He kept his eyes forward but his ears turned back, listening fearfully. He started up the spiral ramp to the zeppelin platform, sighing in relief as he heard the click of John's claws following.

"The zeppelin to Undercity has just arrived! All aboard for Tirisfal Glades!" The zeppelin master's call was punctuated by the gentle thud of the ship meeting the dock, and the tower groaned with the impact.

Rodney emerged onto the open platform and looked around quickly. Two passengers disembarked, but took no notice of them. He led John to the docking platform and stepped onto the deck of the ship. He made his way forward to the prow, farthest from the pilot and engineers, and let John slip in front of him. John laid down on the wooden planks and Rodney stood directly behind him, shielding him from view.

No other passengers came aboard. When they finally pulled away from the tower, Rodney collapsed, shaking, beside John. _This was a stupid idea,_ he said unsteadily, keeping his voice as quiet and focused as he could. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

 _You did great, Rodney,_ John said. There was no trace of fear or doubt in his tone. He leaned over and gave Rodney's muzzle a broad swipe of his tongue, then laid his chin down on the deck.

Rodney froze, then blinked down at John wonderingly. John had closed his eyes, but his long ears were stained pink beneath the short fur, and Rodney felt something warm bloom in his chest. He stretched his neck forward far enough to reach those strange, pointed ears and gave the nearest one an affectionate lick. Then, because it was fun, he did it again.

There was a long pause, then John slowly rolled his head toward Rodney, bringing his other ear into range. Obligingly, Rodney bathed that one as well. John sighed and laid his ears back against his neck and seemed to melt right into the wooden deck. Happily, Rodney laved John's ears, his neck, the top of his head, anything he could reach, glad to be able to make his friend feel good.

A weird thought in the back of his head reminded him that, whatever form they were in currently, Rodney was stroking John's body with his tongue. He was using his tongue to physically pleasure John and John was sighing and stretching, shifting to give Rodney greater access.

The warmth in Rodney's chest swelled and shifted lower and he swallowed, alarmed. Dangerous.

Afraid that somehow John would know that what had started out innocent was suddenly very much not, Rodney gave a couple more quick laps to the top of John's head - An'she, he'd been licking his way _down John's body_ \- then backed off, tucking his paws beneath his chin and looking at John warily. John, though, seemed perfectly content to remain in his puddled heap of relaxation. Rodney thought he might actually be asleep.

Well. John deserved to get some rest, Rodney thought. After the ruckus at the Fen, then lugging Rodney across the expanse of the dusty Barrens - running the whole while, no less - he probably needed it more than Rodney, who'd spent most of the day lying in an infirmary bed or sprawled across John's back.

Rodney shifted quietly to look up past the giant balloons held in place by straining ropes to see the sky passing swiftly above them. The clouds seemed very close, but were thin enough that he could see the blue-black sky filled with stars beyond. He drifted for a while, listening to the groan of the ropes and the whip of the wind until something caught his attention.

There was an indistinct shape winging through the sky some distance away, and Rodney squinted to make it out. A gryphon, the preferred aerial transport of the humans and dwarves, was gliding on vast golden wings, headed east on a parallel course with the zeppelin. Probably on its way to the Plaguelands, one of the few areas in the north part of the continent where the Alliance maintained a significant presence.

That must mean they were close; gryphons couldn't make the sea-crossing any better than wyverns could. Rodney hefted himself up and padded to the bulwark to look over the edge. Silverpine Forest blurred beneath them, the tops of the trees barely discernible at the rate they were moving.

He padded back to lay down next to John again. _Hey,_ he whispered, speaking as gently as he could into John's mind. John blinked open one eye and rolled it toward him. _We're there._ John nodded and rolled upright, immediately alert and wary.

Moments later, the crumbling ruins of Lordaeron came into sight in the distance, its white stone walls breaking through the eternal fog that blanketed Tirisfal Glades. The last mist-wrapped trees of Silverpine Forest passed beneath them, and the fields of Tirisfal opened up before them, damp and depressing.

"Prepare to dock!" the captain called as the zeppelin tower came into sight.

They edged slowly toward the roped-off plank. Rodney was so focused on shielding John from view of the goblin crew that John's sudden alarmed whuff caught him by surprise. Just as the zeppelin bumped against the tower, Rodney was knocked backwards by something barreling on board the ship. He heard John yelp and scrabbled to regain his footing.

A shaman in ghost wolf form had torn open a gash on John's shoulder. As Rodney watched, the wolf transformed into a heavily muscled elder orc, his long grey hair braided with beads. If anyone could recognize a night elf, it was an orc.

The goblins were beginning to realize they had a dangerous situation on their hands and were yelling at the three of them to get off of the ship. The orc ignored them, and slammed the end of his staff on the deck with a sound like thunder. The wind that had a moment ago been still was now whipping around them furiously at the orc's command, snapping and tearing at the ship's rigging and stinging their faces.

 _Run for the forest!_ Rodney yelled, fighting against the wind to get closer to the orc. _Jump!_

John turned and leaped over the bulwark onto the tower platform. Before he could leap to the ground below, a bolt of lightning shot from the shaman's staff and hit John fully, enveloping him in crackling electricity and sending him crashing into the railing of the deck.

Rodney snarled, snapping his teeth, and clawed his way between the orc and his target. He reared up onto his hind legs, making himself as large as possible, and hoped the orc wasn't bloodthirsty enough to be willing to go through him to get to John. He heard the scrape of claws behind him, followed by a thud, and hoped John was still strong enough to run.

"Out of my way, cub!" The orc growled, gripping his staff two-handed.

 _Stop, please!_ Rodney implored. _Let him go! We don't want to fight!_ Oh, Cenarius, did he ever not want to fight.

Without the necessary druid training, he knew the shaman wouldn't understand his words, only his tone, but he couldn't help trying. There was no way he was shifting out of bear to speak - he'd be no match for the orc, and useless to John.

"Make way, tauren," he said dangerously. "I won't ask again."

Rodney allowed himself a moment of fear. Then, _So be it._ He crashed down to all fours, his horns nearly scoring the old orc's chest as he closed his jaws around the wooden staff, ozone stinging between his teeth, and snapped it in two.

The shaman roared and swept a hand through the air between them. Rodney felt the concussion deep in his chest and was tossed like a rag, skidding along the deck of the ship until he bowled into a group of the goblin crewmen, scattering them like jacks.

The shaman changed into his ghost wolf form and leaped easily from the ship to the docking platform, and from there to the ground, disappearing from view.

Rodney snarled and scrambled from the ship, not sparing a glance for the cursing goblins behind him. He threw himself off the platform, landing with an impact that shuddered through his knees, and tore gouges in the earth with his claws as he ran after the shaman.

John was nowhere to be seen, thankfully. The shaman was clearly scenting for him, running in jagged lines, narrowing down the trail. Even so, there was no way Rodney would catch him; even now the wolf was pulling ahead, almost to the trees, where Rodney would surely lose him.

Panting, Rodney gave up the chase and shifted back into tauren form. The cold and damp in the night air crept immediately through his clothes. Shivering, he raised his arms and called to any plants still living in the cursed ground, pleading. A few withered roots answered, breaking through the earth as best they could, lashing and whipping at the wolf's legs as he ran. They weren't strong enough, though, and they twisted and snapped, unable to keep their hold.

Then the shaman reached the treeline and bayed in victory as he caught his quarry's scent. He slipped into Silverpine Forest, his translucent form nearly invisible in the dark, and Rodney desperately reached for the forest. The trees were old and despairing, memories of brighter times haunting their inner rings. No one had spoken to them in so long, their response was sluggish and resentful.

 _Stop,_ Rodney demanded, making his desire their wish, their goal. _Stop!_

Finally, they obeyed, their great roots pulling themselves from the ground for the first time in centuries, twisting in rage, snaking toward their target.

Rodney shifted to bear when the trees pulsed with their success and ran into the dark wood. A quarter mile down the broken road he came upon the shaman. Rodney's eyes widened, horrified. Warped ancient roots nearly as thick as Rodney's chest ran to the road from every direction, looking like a giant, living spider web. They were twined mercilessly around the wolf's form, and, having squeezed out every last breath of air, were now apparently doing their best to squeeze out every remaining drop of blood.

 _Oh, God._ Rodney wheezed for breath around the bile in his throat. _Stop, go back, stop!_ Obediently, the roots slid out of their deadly knot and slipped back into the surrounding forest.

Feeling lightheaded, Rodney wandered for a few steps, then sat down. He sucked in great gulps of air, trying not to pass out. He'd killed a person. He was a killer. His vision blurred, and he was grateful when the sight of the mangled shaman wavered, indistinct.

The panic in his chest felt like it was crushing his lungs.

 _Rodney!_ John's mental voice sounded urgent.

 _John,_ Rodney whimpered.

 _Are you all right?_ he asked, but didn't wait for an answer. _Hold on, I'm coming. Stay where you are._

Rodney waited. The smell of blood was sweet and sharp. Rodney shifted into tauren form so he wouldn't taste it in the back of his throat.

The trees seemed to be mocking him: _this is what you asked for_ with every breeze through their branches.

xxx

John didn't have far to go. Rodney was just a few minutes' hard run from the spot where he'd been waiting. John had noticed pretty quickly that the shaman could outrun him, so he'd gone to ground and used the time his head start had given him to heal himself as best he could before going another round.

Just when he'd begun to wonder if the orc had lost him, John had been blindsided by a crippling wave of _shock denial grief guilt,_ all of it tinged with that now-familiar taste of Rodney in his mind. He'd called out to his friend, not caring that his mental voice might draw his pursuer directly to him, and his worry escalated at the weakness of Rodney's reply.

He ran in the direction Rodney's voice had come from, following the road. He found his friend sitting in the middle of a circle of broken twigs and bits of bark, staring blankly at the ground. The shaman was clearly no longer a threat, its neck broken and body twisted like a wrung-out shirt. John trotted to a stop directly in front of his stunned companion and shifted back to his normal form.

"Rodney?" he said softly. He placed a hand on Rodney's shoulder, and wide blue eyes lifted to meet his, dark with guilt. "Are you okay?" It was a stupid question, but John had nothing else to give him. Rodney nodded.

"I'm okay. I'm not... I didn’t mean it. It's not what I meant."

"I know."

"I'm not-" Rodney sniffed and trembled, just slightly. "I'm not sorry. I didn't mean to kill him, but I'm not... He would have killed you. I don't know what that makes me." Rodney looked to him, open and vulnerable, and John searched for the words that would let Rodney forgive himself. He settled next to Rodney on the road and leaned against his side.

John thought for a moment. "I'd say it makes you my friend." He rested his chin on Rodney's shoulder and waited until Rodney tilted his head to look down at him, uncertain and wavering. "I'd say it makes me very, very lucky."

He held Rodney's gaze, willing him to feel that John thought no less of him, to feel his support, his understanding, love. Rodney closed his eyes and ducked his head, his cheek brushing against John's hair.

"Please, let's go," he said shakily. "Let's get out of here."

They left the road, Rodney looking back once, and walked through the cold forest, making their way southwest. John talked about inconsequential things. The first time he'd experienced Brewfest with the dwarves, his dabbling in creating inks from herbs, the tiny dragon whelpling he'd found as a child and raised until it was grown enough to survive on its own. Rodney made the odd encouraging noise or subdued chuckle, but was otherwise silent.

When they came to Lordamere Lake, they made camp, deciding to wait out the hours until first light. The western coast of Silverpine was only a couple of hours' walk from the lake, and searching for anything in the black water at night would be less than useless.

Rodney seemed to have come to an understanding of sorts, and sounded almost like his usual self as they debated the best way to build a fire with the ever-present damp that permeated even the dead, fallen logs.

"You'd be better off breaking a green branch off a living tree," Rodney sniffed, tossing one of John's collected branches over his shoulder. "Honestly, I thought your people were supposed to be good at this camping thing."

"I think you have the wrong idea about our treehouses," John said wryly. "Think more marble and fountains, less knotholes and splinters."

"Marble trees?" Rodney squinted at him.

"No." John smiled. "The tree is big, you know. Teldrassil isn't like a poplar or something."

Rodney finally got the fire going and settled himself as close as he could get to the flames without singeing his leather leggings. He lay down on his back and looked up at the sky, the only thing that was the same everywhere, for all of them. "So, what is it like?"

John lay down on his side and propped his head up on his fist, close enough to see Rodney's ears twitch and swivel toward him to listen. "It's like... an island, growing from the depths of the sea off the coast of Kalimdor. The trunk is miles and miles around, and it would take the better part of a day to go around it by boat. There's even a dock at the base with these swift little boats with silver sails that go back and forth from Teldrassil to Darkshore."

"So how do you get from the base up to the branches? You live in the branches, right?" Rodney craned his neck to look at John upside down.

"Yeah. There's a teleporter by the dock that takes you right into Darnassus." John's chest clenched, knowing that no matter how much he might want Rodney to see the beauty and gentle refinement of Darnassus, it could never happen. "It's beautiful, Rodney. There's grass everywhere, and trees and flowers, and deer and squirrels. The Sentinels on their nightsabers pad around on patrol, and little streams run everywhere, with white stone bridges for people to get around the city."

"It sounds like Nighthaven." Rodney yawned. "Nighthaven's pretty."

John smiled. Nighthaven was like a military base camp compared to the grace of the capital. "Yeah. The Cenarion Enclave has buildings that are carved right out of the trunks of the trees, and barrow dens that spiral deep into the ground. The market areas are probably close to what you think of as treehouses. Little shops that are barely more than platforms built on branches with wooden staircases for customers to come up to visit."

"Sounds annoying. Great way to curtail overspending, I guess."

John reached up and pulled at a lock of Rodney's hair. "The temple is different, though. It's all marble and washed stone and gardens with statues-"

"And fountains?"

"-and fountains. And in the center of the city is the Bough of the Eternals, a tree shaped like a bear with a bird on its back, and the flowering branches are its wings."

They were quiet for a moment, as John rubbed Rodney's hair absentmindedly between his fingers. "I'd like to see that," Rodney said wistfully.

"I wish you could, buddy."

"I think Undercity - Lordaeron, I mean - I think that must be what the human cities look like. I mean, it used to be a human city."

John shrugged. "I guess so. I never got to see Lordaeron before the undead took it over." It was strange to realize that they were only a few hours away from the ruins where the Alliance had suffered one of its greatest losses.

Rodney's head jerked slightly. "Forsaken," he corrected.

John huffed and tugged again on the lock of hair. "There's no one around to hear us, Rodney. Undead is undead. It's what they are."

"It's the name they've chosen for themselves. We can at least give them that much respect!" Rodney was beginning to sound upset, and John shook his head, bewildered.

"And how much respect do they show anyone else? Even within the Horde, they don't have much use for any of the other races. They're only allied with the Horde for their own protection - if not for that, they'd be as likely to kill you as any Alliance! They only trust themselves." John snorted. If there was any race on Azeroth that was worth hating, it was the race of sentient corpses inhabiting Undercity.

"It's hardly their fault," Rodney said, sounding wounded on behalf of his abominable allies. "Look at it from their perspective. There they were, living their happy little human lives in Lordaeron, waiting for their beloved Prince Arthas to come sailing triumphantly home from Northrend with the news that the Lich King was defeated and their kingdom was safe."

John closed his eyes with a grimace. Prince Arthas Menethil. If only someone had smothered him as a babe. What would the world look like now? He could hardly imagine, but he had to believe they would all have been the better for it.

"Only," Rodney continued, "when Arthas comes home, he marches right through his rose-petal parade, past his adoring subjects, and murders his own father on his throne before the welcoming bells have stopped tolling."

John remembered that day. A mage had teleported into Darnassus unannounced, looking wild-eyed and terrorized and wouldn't relax until he'd been taken to see Tyrande Whisperwind herself. John hadn't been privy to the conversation, but immediately after their meeting, the leader of the night elves had declared that the human kingdom of Lordaeron was under siege by the Scourge, and forbidden any travel to the land. Looking more grave than John had ever seen her, she'd left to meet with King Magni Bronzebeard of the dwarves, the gnome High Tinker Mekkatorque, and Varian Wrynn, the king of Stormwind, and now the last hope of the humans. They'd held their summit at the dwarven capital of Ironforge, and when they'd emerged from beneath the mountain it had been decided that Lordaeron was lost, and that no war would be mounted to retake it.

There had been anger from the Allied populations, most notably in Stormwind, the humans there having closer ties to the people of Lordaeron, but most had come to realize the hopelessness of saving what remained of their northern brethren. Information leaked out slowly, unbelievable and surreal. Arthas Menethil had indeed confronted the Lich King in his fortress at Icecrown Glacier with the cursed sword Frostmourne in his possession, discovered in a cave not far from Icecrown. They said the sword drove him mad, that it whispered to him. They said that when confronted with the object of his obsessive quest, Arthas had not killed the Lich King, but _merged_ with him, sacrificing his soul and gaining in return control over the entire force of the undead Scourge.

They said that Arthas Menethil, former Prince of Lordaeron, was now the Lich King.

"Everyone dies." Rodney's voice was low and pained. John realized that as allies of the undead, the tauren probably had a very different view of the Fall of Lordaeron than the Alliance did. Perhaps Rodney even had friends in the Undercity, friends that had told him of their lives, their gruesome deaths, and the parody life that had faced them afterward. Though he'd known him a relatively short time, John knew how such a thing would haunt his gentle friend. His lips twisted in anger. Damn Arthas and his poisonous legacy.

"Every man, woman and child in the kingdom is killed in unimaginable ways by monsters with no soul to feel pity or mercy. The Scourge presses further into the city daily, tearing people apart as they find them, leaving jaws and arms and eyes in the streets."

John wanted to stop Rodney, afraid that his friend would cause himself more distress, but he just shifted his gaze to the serene surface of Lordamere Lake and watched the water lap as Rodney spoke.

"The few who are left retreat into the heart of the castle, waiting for rescue. Even when the Scourge began tearing down the outside walls, they waited, believing their allies would come to help them. But you didn't. And in the end the Scourge came for them all. That was the Fall of Lordaeron."

John didn't turn his head to look at Rodney or try to defend himself or his people. What could be said? The Alliance had abandoned Lordaeron. Perhaps there truly was nothing they could have done against the might of the Scourge, as their leaders had determined. But the truth was that they hadn't even tried.

"Those unlucky enough to be infected woke where they'd died, surrounded by the decaying bodies of their own families. Their own flesh had already begun decomposing before they'd been raised, and their whole kingdom was little more than a mass open grave, but it was all they had left. They moved beneath the city, where the smell wasn't quite as bad, and made it their home.

"Then some humans started arriving to _take back_ Lordaeron. As if those strangers from other kingdoms had more right to it than the people who'd lived and died there."

The people from Stormwind had been incensed at the resistance, John recalled, seeing the occupation of their fallen sister city by the undead as an insult to the people who'd lived there. There had been noise of an all-out attack to reclaim the kingdom and restore it to its former glory, but by then the Undercity had formed their alliance with the Horde, and such a war was not to be considered lightly.

"Sylvanas Windrunner pulled them together and gave them someone to follow. She pledged their services to the Horde, and she promised her people they would find a way to eradicate Arthas and the Scourge for what was done to them. They're unforgiving and mistrustful of everyone, but their hatred of the Scourge is- it's terrifying, actually.

"Yes, they're bitter and... unpleasant," Rodney allowed with a slight shake of his head. "But if anyone has cause to be bitter, I'd say it's them. They were betrayed by their prince, murdered in their homes by his army, left to die by their supposed allies, and then raised as the very things that killed them. Or near enough. Then when their former kin finally appeared, it wasn't to welcome them back from death, but to take away their home and what little life they had left to them. They were condemned in every way. Forsaken."

xxx

Later, after Rodney had fallen asleep, John lay awake watching the stars, bright and brilliant here where the major civilization was underground. He didn't think he could ever truly feel sympathy for the undead - Forsaken. Everything about them was unnatural. Their very existence was due to evil, Light-damned magic, the kind of magic that turned the stomach and made a person's soul cringe.

But Rodney - somehow Rodney could look past that. He could feel compassion when even John had difficulty feeling anything other than revulsion. John ached suddenly at the pointlessness of this old war and the hatreds that hung over their heads. If he so much as broached the idea that a tauren, a Horde, could teach even the exalted paladins of Stormwind something about kindness, he would be thought mad.

If they could all just learn to _talk_ to each other, the way Starblaze and the elder druids were always preaching - well, Rodney would probably say something horribly insulting about dwarven women's backsides or draenei men's facial tendrils, and that would be the end of that. John coughed on a laugh, the sudden noise making Rodney snort in his sleep. John quieted and watched as Rodney shifted then settled down again.

This was all right, John thought, sliding down so that his left side was warmed by being pressed against Rodney's right. He looked after Rodney and Rodney looked after him, and for now, it was enough.

xxx

Rodney paced back and forth along the shore nervously, smooth stones shifting beneath his paws. John was swimming somewhere beneath the old, wrecked ship, searching for the other half of the pendant while Rodney stood watch. Any passersby would no doubt be Horde, more than likely Forsaken, so it made more sense for Rodney to be the one on guard while John searched.

_Anything yet?_

_No, Rodney,_ John said with exaggerated patience. Rodney chose to ignore his tone. _But be sure to check again in another thirty seconds in case I find it and forget to tell you._

_Oh, shut up._

_I would, but you keep talking to me. Not answering would be rude._

_Die and let the fish eat your stupid pink flesh._ Rodney paused. _But bring me the pendant first._

_Maybe I'll find the pendant and leave you here._

_Maybe I'll accidentally bite your head when you come up for air._

Rodney felt the warm laughter in the back of his mind and smiled. He couldn't imagine now how he could have done all of this without John. He'd probably have died back at the Fen if he hadn't had John looking out for him.

How strange it was that someone he may have fought to the death had they met anywhere else had become his friend. Someone he was even... attracted to. Rodney blushed, grateful that there was no one around to see him.

It was absurd. John was lithe and quick and kind and beautiful, and Rodney was, well, plodding and sarcastic and awkward and _clompy._

But still, he couldn't deny that part of him yearned toward John, toward his soft smiles and gentle pats, his ridiculous laugh and unconscious grace. For a moment, he let himself feel it. Protected from John's view by a barrier of water, he closed his eyes and let his heart beat heavily with awe and want.

The sound of the waves washing the shore was even enough that the quiet _plip_ of something breaking the surface was easily noticed. He collected himself hurriedly and thought non-John thoughts very deeply and with great concentration as John paddled his way to shore and trudged up the beach.

Dangling from his mouth was a glinting golden chain. Rodney concentrated on the quiet tinkling of the shifting links, pretending he hadn't just been having inappropriate thoughts about someone so beyond his reach.

 _And you forgot to tell me after all,_ he said, attempting to recapture their previous banter. _You have the memory of an elekk, truly._

When John didn't respond, Rodney shifted his gaze up to meet his eyes. John was... staring. At him. As if he thought if he just stared hard enough he could see the inside of Rodney's skull.

Involuntarily, Rodney took a nervous step back, and John dropped his gaze, breaking the moment.

Shaken and confused, Rodney resorted to words to fill the silence. _That's great; you found it. Good. Success._

_Yeah. Rodney…_

And suddenly, having John's voice in his mind was far too intimate, and druid-speak was really, really terrible at filling silences because it was silent and Rodney almost sprained something in his rush to change back to his tauren form.

"Well!" he said brightly. "Let's put them together, shall we?" He reached under his tunic and pulled the other half of the pendant from around his neck. "I wonder how long it's been since this thing has been whole. If you could just, uh, drop that, I'll - yes, thank you. Wow, that's... very slimy."

_Rodney?_

"No, it's no problem. See? There we go. Good as- _aaark!"_

xxx

Finding himself flat on his back, completely dry, staring up at a sky much more blue and cheery than the one he'd just been standing under should have been the most surprising thing to happen to him in the last ten minutes, John thought.

It really wasn't.

He still felt kind of stunned. He'd just found the wooden box and was carefully breaking it open with his claws when he'd been hit with a distinctly Rodney-flavoured feeling of heat and longing. For him. Rodney wanted him, and it felt like being infused with warm sunlight. It wrapped around him, as genuine and unreserved as Rodney himself.

He'd barely remembered to grab the half-medallion in his teeth before making his way back to Rodney, dazed and happy.

Then Rodney was acting as if it had never happened, and John realized he hadn't meant for John to pick up on those feelings and Rodney had _no idea_ that John was absolutely gone on him, and what could he say to make him understand - and then the world had twisted around them and a twig was sticking into John's left hip.

John sighed and waited for the pins and needles to fade. A rustle of leaves to his right indicated that Rodney was still with him.

"This is retribution," Rodney said resignedly. "This is punishment from your sadistic goddess for daring to think of-" There was a choked sound as if Rodney had suddenly swallowed his own tongue. "Nevermind," he muttered.

With a pitiful groan, Rodney eased himself to a sitting position, rubbing at his shoulder. John wondered if there was any sort of damaging cumulative effect of repeated trips through dimensions. It couldn't be healthy.

"That can't be healthy," Rodney groused and John laughed.

Then, as if drawn by the magic of laughter - dryads were so predictable - a cheerful face framed with green hair tangled with leaves appeared upside down in John's field of vision. "John of Shadowglen, Rodney of Red Cloud Mesa!" Tajarri greeted.

"Heya."

"Yes, yes, hello, Tajarri of Moonglade, whatever."

"We were so worried! We've had the Druids of the Talon searching all over for you. We were concentrating on the Barrens because we never thought you would- but clearly you made it to the Eastern Kingdoms after all, because here you are!" John frowned and stood up, not liking where this was going. They'd sent out search parties?

"Thank Cenarius the Pendant of the Sea Lion still held enough power to bring you back. We weren't sure, what with Remulos away. But here you are, still alive and unhurt! How wonderful!" Tajarri looked delighted and disturbingly impressed.

Rodney squawked wordlessly, clambering to his feet. John winced. _"What?!_ What do you mean 'still alive?' What does that mean? What happened to 'Cenarius watches over us all'?"

For the first time, Tajarri looked grave, and John felt a chill of apprehension. "Something is wrong in the Emerald Dream. The Nightmare is growing. Remulos had to go into the Dream to aid Ysera in containing it, but I fear it will be only a temporary measure."

The chill grew. The Emerald Dream was a plane parallel to their own where a copy of a pure, untouched Azeroth was maintained and guarded by the Aspect Ysera, one of the five great dragons charged with the protection of the world at its creation. If there was something so terrible invading Ysera's domain that even she could not defeat it...

"But that is not something for you to worry about yet," Tajarri said gently, her cheerfulness returning. "I'm only sorry that we could not guarantee your safety during your trial." Though she was smiling, it was obvious that her concern and apology were sincere.

"May I?" she asked Rodney brightly, gesturing to the pieces of the pendant he held. Subdued, Rodney placed them in her hand. Gathering them together in the palm of her left hand, she covered them with her right, and when she lifted it, two small perfect medallions lay there, each with a thin golden chain.

"Tadaa!" she exclaimed, and passed one to each of them. "Just a small trinket to aid you in your travels. You have more than earned these, as well as the blessing of the sea lion. Congratulations!" She bowed to them playfully, arms sweeping behind her and all four thin deer legs crossed in a perfect curtsey.

Rodney eyed his trinket critically. "Yeah, that's not tacky at all."

John choked on air.

"Wait, wait," Rodney's furred ears perked up. "So we got the blessing, then. That's what you said."

"Yes!" Tajarri chirped, equally excited.

Rodney turned to him, his face lit up with triumph. "John!" John could only grin at him. "We have to try this out. Come on."

"You're welcome to use the lake if you like!" Tajarri called, but Rodney already had him by the sleeve and was towing him east out of the shrine.

On the smooth stones at the edge of Lake Elune'ara where their journey had begun, John watched with a tiny smile as Rodney attempted to strip without actually getting naked. Rodney was twisting awkwardly, tangling himself up in his tunic, trying to keep a layer of fabric between himself and John's eyes at all times. Feeling generous, John turned his back to remove his own clothing, and soon heard Rodney splashing his way into the lake.

He heard the tell-tale _whump_ of displaced air, and then Rodney's mental voice, sounding utterly scandalized.

_Horns of Malorne! That's hideous!_

John turned, surprised. Rodney was treading water, staring down at his own reflection on the surface. He was... John squinted and waded through the cool water toward Rodney. He wasn't quite sure what Rodney was.

"Huh," he said, and concentrated on being aquatic. It took a moment, possibly due to his confusion, but when the magic dissipated, John had the same thick white hide and flippers that Rodney now sported.

 _What is this? What are we supposed to be?_ Rodney lifted his lip and turned his head to examine his new tusks.

 _Sea lion?_ John offered uncertainly. He lifted a flipper and smacked it down on the surface. _Ouch._

 _Oh!_ Rodney looked startled, but before John could ask why, he dove out of sight. Curious, John curled downward and followed him.

The water felt _awesome._ Just a light push from his hind flippers had him slicing through it, despite the ungainly look of his new form. And the chill that had made the hair on his arms stand up wasn't even noticeable through his thick skin and insulation.

 _It does allow us to breathe water!_ Rodney said, beaming, apparently willing to forgive a lack of beauty in exchange for utility. He looked so pleased with himself, inviting John to share in his excitement as he paddled in place, that John felt the same surge of emotion and possibility that he'd felt swimming under a wrecked ship halfway across the world.

But, like then, the words stuck in his chest. It should have been easy; he knew Rodney felt something for him. He just didn't know how to get from _here_ to where he wanted to be. He didn't know how to jump that gap.

John recalled the time he'd felt Rodney's fond exasperation in Ashenvale, his shock and grief in Silverpine, and the amazing feeling of his desire and yearning by the ocean. John might not find it easy to say the words, but maybe he didn't have to.

He concentrated on all the things he felt for his irritable, gentle, contradictory companion and pushed, writing them out on that mental whitespace that connected him to Rodney's mind.

Immediately, Rodney froze and his eyes unfocused. He hung there, suspended in the water until, with a tiny shudder, he slid his gaze over to John. He jerked toward John a fraction, then stopped, eyes wide.

 _John?_ Every line of his body radiated hope and hesitation.

Feeling like he was on the edge of something breathtaking, John projected love and welcome and _please, yes_ and opened himself up to let Rodney see and feel anything he needed to in order to believe him because he needed, John needed - _Rodney_ -

xxx

For a moment John despaired that his first kiss with Rodney was as a deformed manatee, but then a water-slick flipper touched his shoulder gently, and, shivering, he decided it could be worse.

Once they made their way up to flight form, he'd have to deal with _beaks._

 

 

-End

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Artwork for Salt Water by blissfire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4365335) by [danceswithgary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithgary/pseuds/danceswithgary)




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